


Sass Up

by TheGirlWithBrightEyes



Series: Fragments of Life [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Court, Dagon (Good Omens) - Freeform, Demons Are Assholes, Fear, Female Beelzebub (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens) - Freeform, M/M, Michael (Good Omens) - Freeform, Self-Sacrifice, Trials, attempted execution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 00:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithBrightEyes/pseuds/TheGirlWithBrightEyes
Summary: Gift work, a direct continuation to Hellfire from my Fragments of Life series, taking up directly after Aziraphale and Crowley has swapped bodies and Aziraphale heads out to find Crowley. Things get out of hand at St James and Aziraphale finds himself on trial in Crowley's body.Aziraphale POV up until he and Crowley swap back.





	Sass Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Primarina (PastelBrachypelma)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBrachypelma/gifts).



> Wow, this was really difficult to write since there are TONS of dialogue to work around... I really hope I didn't make a mess of things! 
> 
> If you want to read Crowley's POV, go to part 3 of Fragments of Life: Everything to Protect Him.
> 
> EDIT: Improved the introduction a bit as I found it slightly rushed.

When Crowley was leaving in his body to check what had changed when the world tilted, Aziraphale made his way back to the bedroom in Crowley's body for more rest. It was slow work with one hand always touching a wall, and not only because he was not used to being so tall and lanky.

He'd known Crowley was exhausted, but only now that he was wearing the demon's body did he really understand just how exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached, his veins hurt from over-using his powers, even his bones were weary. It felt much like he'd worked on overdrive for too long and Aziraphale wondered how he could have been standing up for so long if this was feeling 'better' as Crowley had put it.

As he'd got to the bed, Aziraphale glanced at the alarm clock. Seven. 

That would give him at least a couple of hours more sleep. He doubted it would be enough but it was better than nothing. He managed to get around the bed and curled up in the same spot Crowley had slept during the night. The mattress still warm and it smelled overwhelmingly like him. With a soft sigh, he pulled the covers over him to sleep. Given how exhausted Crowley's body was, sleep came easy for once.

...

Aziraphale woke up slightly later than planned, his mind lingering on a nightmare he couldn't quite remember except an intense feeling that Crowley was in danger. He sat up and rubbed a bony shoulder, slightly alarmed before he remembered that he wasn't in his usual body - Crowley was quite a lot skinnier than him. He looked down on himself. In hindsight it wasn't one of his best ideas to go to bed clothed and he frowned at the wrinkles.

Sliding out of bed he passed the mirror over by the walk-in-closet and tried to straightened out his clothes, slightly frustrated with his own choice to avoid miracles. He looked at Crowley's reflection, pursing his lips at the state of his hair and tried to comb Crowley's hair into his usual style. It wasn't perfect, but it had been worse. He didn't have much time on his hands so it would have to do.

He was almost out the door when he realised that he wasn't wearing any glasses and had to double back, looking through the chest in the hall until he found a stash there. Not used to these kind of glasses, it was a bit fiddly before he got them on and could head down. He just hoped he hadn't forgotten anything else...

As he headed out to the nearest street to call down a cab, Aziraphale stopped in his tracks as the street had a pleasant surprise: there, by the wayside, stood Crowley's beloved Bentley without a scratch. It shone in the sun, almost as if it was greeting him.

_Your car is back, Crowley. Oh, he'll be delighted!_

Smiling happily, Aziraphale called down a cab, not even considering giving driving a try. It would be awful if Crowley's car had been returned to him, only to get crashed by an angel without any driver's license. His mind lingered on the vintage car during the ride, mind half made up to plan going somewhere with Crowley when this was all over. If only just to celebrate that he had his car back.

He arrived at St James just before ten and after paying the driver, he gave his best Crowley saunter over to the figure standing by the duck pond, lost in thought. After a minute or two, Crowley started and looked up, visibly surprised to see him there.

"Ice cream, angel?" Aziraphale suggested in an attempted Crowley drawl, hoping to impress the demon with his impersonation. To his disappointment, Crowley didn't return his effort and just nodded. Was something wrong? The demon seemed more distracted than he'd expected him to be. He wasn't doing a very good imitation, either. Slightly concerned, Aziraphale decided to be the one ordering ice creams for them.

"How's the car?" Crowley suddenly asked in a quiet voice. Aziraphale leaned against the ice cream box, feeling rather pleased.

"Not a scratch on it," he answered, waiting for a smile that didn't come. Oh dear. Something was definitely wrong. "How's the bookshop?" Crowley hesitated and for a moment, Aziraphale was certain he'd say that it had not been restored.

"Not a smudge. Not a book burned. Everything back the way it was," he said, wandering around Aziraphale, who couldn't quite suppress a smile at these news. It was back. How wonderful! All his collections returned to him, he could very well sing! The ice cream man intercepted him by giving him their ice creams, and Aziraphale handed Crowley his.

"You heard from your people yet?" Crowley asked, not even looking at the cone. This startled Aziraphale. Should he have heard from anyone? Was there a risk that Heaven would contact him and not Crowley? He sincerely hoped not, it would blow the entire disguise. Aziraphale shook his head.

"Yours?" Crowley looked around nervously and it was starting to dawn on the angel exactly what was keeping Crowley so sombre. He was worried and getting rather paranoid that no one had tried to contact them yet.

"Nothing." Aziraphale considered this, wondering what exactly it meant. They had no way of knowing exactly when Agnes' prophecy would come into play, just that it would. They had no other plan at the moment though, they'd have to deal with it as they came. Frowning, he wondered how to ask Crowley what he'd concluded from his search for things that had changed.

"Do you...understand...what happened yesterday?" Aziraphale said carefully, cautious to say too much in case someone was listening. He knew the car and the bookshop had been reversed but felt sure they were not the only thing. The way the humans moved about it seemed like any other day.

"Well, I understand some of it," Crowley said in a decent imitation of him."But some of it...well, is just a little bit too..."Crowley trailed off.

"INEFFABLE." Aziraphale snapped to attention, staring at Death standing only a few yards away. His heart leapt to his mouth.

"Oh that's...that's funny seeing him here, that's meant to be bad luck..."Aziraphale managed as he pointed with his ice lolly, mouth suddenly too full of Crowley's forked tongue. Even as he said it, Death turned to dust in the wind. His work was done? "Y-you...that's-that's meant to be bad-" Aziraphale stuttered in a panic and was instantly even more alarmed as he realised that Crowley was no longer standing beside him. He spun around in wild panic, turning around just in time to see Crowley being dragged off by angels, Uriel and Sandalphon blocking his path. He stared at them, eyes wide in shock behind the dark shades, frantically casting about what to do. He knew it had been the plan, but to actually see Crowley captured in his stead...

"Renegade angels all tied up with strings" Uriel said in a sing-song voice, with the same coldness she'd presented when they'd confronted Aziraphale before Armageddon.

"These are a few of our favourite things," Sandalphon continued, reminding Aziraphale all too well what Heaven was like. This was their idea of a joke. It was cruel... They turned before Aziraphale had a chance to say anything. What would they do to Crowley? Oh, this plan was so dangerous! Why had he agreed to it?

"Stop! Stop there!" Aziraphale cried and started to go after them, barely noticing the woman he passed in his hurry to get to Crowley. It was a big mistake. Before he even realised what was happening his head was a world of hurt and he hit the gravelled path, reeling. What in the world...?

"Oh, bad luck, dear," someone said over him and for a moment he wondered if he'd been hit by accident by something. Did someone strike him with a shovel? Head swimming he tried to get up on his hands and knees, groaning. He strained his eyes, looking down the path where Crowley disappeared. Nothing. He was already gone. Vision blackening at the edges Aziraphale looked to the sides, but he was too dizzy to get a good look at the people standing over him.

"It's no problem. It's...tickety-boo..."he managed before consciousness eluded him and he blackened out. His last thought went out to Crowley.

_Please be all right._

...

As Aziraphale came to it became clear that either his hit to the head _was_ intentional after all - or Hell had been watching them, because he was lying on his side on a cold floor in complete darkness. The room smelled of filth and sulphur but he seemed to be alone. Crowley's body felt stiff after lying on a hard floor goodness knows how long. Aziraphale attempted to sit up, something made a great deal more difficult by the fact that someone had tied his hands very tightly. No amount of wiggling seemed to help and he'd didn't want to try force. He didn't want to hurt Crowley's body if he could help it, he had every intention to return it once he got back up.

 _If_ he got back up. Agnes' prophecy said nothing about this so he didn't know what Hell had planned for Crowley. It could be anything. What good would Crowley's sacrifice in Heaven be, protecting him from fire, if Aziraphale had himself locked up by Hell? Feeling panic rising he pushed it down. Stay cool.

_If Hell turns up just...pretend you're me. Be a polite arse. It usually works._

Right. He could do this. Or well, he wasn't sure but he had to try. This wasn't Heaven, he might have a better chance to wheedle himself out of this than he'd have if this was Heaven.

He'd just managed to find a wall to prop himself against when the door opened and he blinked against the flickering lights outside. Two silent demons were standing in it, looking at him, covered in full armour.

"Hey guys, what's up?" he said, trying to cheek them. They seemed to expect it because none of them were fazed. They simply got inside and helped him to his feet, not exactly gently but not as rough as he'd expected them to be. They didn't hurt him and didn't let go until he was safely on his feet.

"Time for a walk," one of them said. "Nothing broken?" Slightly surprised at this, Aziraphale tested his neck. There was a headache to be sure, but nothing seemed broken.

"Nope. Fine and dandy," he said, trying to imitate Crowley's speech pattern. The two guards seemed satisfied and led him on, letting him walk in front of them through the narrow corridor. Though the light kept flickering, he could see many doors on both sides. Definitely a prison.

_Oh, Crowley..._

He was led into a small, nearly bare chamber with a low roof - a sharp contrast to Crowley's high ceilinged flat, and just had the chance to see a large glass window and a bathtub before he was facing three vaguely familiar faces. If by description only, he'd only actually seen one of them face to face before: Beelzebub. On her sides were Dagon and Hastur, which was hardly surprising given how Crowley had warned him about Hastur.

_Be a polite arse. Be a polite arse..._

"Hey guys," Aziraphale said, hoping it would work as well as on the guards. He'd never seen Crowley back down before and doubted he would even in a situation like this. "Nice place you got here."

"Not for you it won't be," Hastur growled low. Aziraphale ignored him.

"Could do with some house plants," Aziraphale ploughed on, trying to hide his anxiousness but he knew he was tense. "Maybe a coffee table-"

"Silence!" Beelzebub drawled, watching Crowley from where she sat. "Prisoner should approach."

"I'd love to," Aziraphale managed nervously, almost biting his tongue as this was a very un-Crowley-ish thing to say. Swallowing he kept going as he'd stepped up, feigning ignorance as to what was going on. "So, four of us. Proper bridge? Barbershop quartet?"

"The trial of a traitor?" Beelzebub sounded rather amused, which Aziraphale took as - given the situation he was in, a good sign. A trial, then. This was surprising. He didn't know Hell held trials. Maybe he could wriggle out of this if he could amuse Beelzebub enough to let him go?

"Lord Beelzebub, you are...?"he started, hoping that Beelzebub would catch on. He wasn't sure what exactly their game was yet but given that Hastur was there and he was tied up it couldn't be any good.

"I'm the judge," Beelzebub said, still sounding rather amused. It was strange, but this Lord of Hell was somehow much less frightening than the archangels Aziraphale had come across in the past. Although he felt fairly sure these demons had never been Crowley's friends they seemed to have some kind of understanding even if there was nothing in way of trust.

"And I'm the prosecutor," Hastur continued helpfully, this bit of information not the least surprising. Aziraphale licked his lips, turning to Dagon, who had not yet spoken.

"And so Dagon here is defending me," he concluded, thinking of human trials. Unfortunately, this was a faulty assumption.

"Oh I'm afraid not. No I'm just here in case there's anything you've done that they forgot," Dagon said. Although the tone was civilised, Aziraphale's heart sunk. Right. A trial with no defence, then. Merely a parody of a trial. Though it was better than no trial at all - at least he would know what Crowley was being accused of.

"But we built this place for you especially," Beelzebub informed him, leaning forward. "It shall be your place of trial and it shall be your place of destruction." Aziraphale trembled and swallowed heard. Although Beelzebub had not raised her voice, the threat hung in the air.

_Be a polite arse._

"Guys," Aziraphale managed, brow furrowed and shoulders tense. "Shouldn't have gone to all the trouble." He looked about him but there was nowhere to run and he was surrounded. He turned back to Beelzebub, focusing on the demon that seemed to hate him the least, if at all. "What appears to be the problem?"

This, it seemed, offended Hastur who gave out an indignant and quite undignified shriek.

"You! You know what the problem is!" his voice pitched in anger. "Y-you-"

"Silence," Beelzebub rolled her eyes and Hastur fell silent, clearly agitated. "This is a trial. State the charges, persecutor, not personal opinions." Hastur glared but seemed to gain some sort of control over himself. Dagon, Aziraphale noticed, smiled looking pleased and held up fingers to tick the crimes off.

That didn't bode well.

"For losing the Anti-Christ child given to you," Hastur started, barely restraining himself. Dagon ticked off a finger. "For failing to report that we had the wrong child." Tick. "For changing the scene of Armageddon from Hell's designed place to-to," and here Hastur growled, fighting to restrain himself. "Tadfield airbase," he spat, drool flying. Tick. "Conspiring with an _angel_ \- our sworn enemy - to stop the War." Tick. "...and the murderer of a fellow demon," Hastur finished off, barely in control. "A crime I saw with my own eyes." Aziraphale swallowed. That had to be the demon Crowley had used Holy Water on...

_Oh Crowley, you really got yourself into trouble for that..._

He could finally understand just why Crowley had been so desperate to make him run away with him. To flee. He knew this was coming, he knew they'd found him out - and that they were very angry with him. All that fear was highly justified.

"Creatures of Hell," Beelzebub called out after a brief pause, eyeing Hastur to make sure he would not do anything, then to Dagon to get confirmation that nothing had been missed. Aziraphale followed the demon's gaze to the large window, now noticing that there seemed to be a Horde of demons watching the trial. Audience. Terrific. His heart sunk even more if that was possible. "You have heard the evidence against the demon known as 'Crowley', what is your verdict?"

"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" the crowd roared. Aziraphale stared at them, taken completely by surprise. Beelzebub would not be the one to decide whether he was guilty? This was it?

"D'you have anything to say, before we take our vengeance on you?" Beelzebub said slowly, to Aziraphale's surprise not sounding very happy with the verdict. Aziraphale turned back, briefly sensing something akin to pity. He tried to gather his wits, but didn't get something out at once. What should he say? What would Crowley say? Casting about, he settled for the only thing he could think of: the punishment.

"What's it to be, an eternity in the deepest pit?" he managed, concern overflowing for what Crowley would do if that were to happen. They hadn't planned for this and given Crowley's history he knew the demon would try to save him... Then it'd be all over for them both. They were walking a fine line as it were.

"No, we're gonna do something even worse," Hastur growled in a low, menacing voice. "Letting the punishment fit the crime." Aziraphale stared but was interrupted by the ding from an elevator and instead turned toward the sound. Steps were heard - someone was coming. Agitated, Aziraphale saw the lights flicker and then an all too familiar face appeared from the corridor he'd come through earlier.

Michael. Carrying a large glass pitcher.

"The archangel Michael?" Aziraphale blurted, barely believing his eyes. He quickly gathered himself, unsure whether Crowley had actually met Michael and would recognise her. "That's...unlikely," he added quickly, once more stumbling over Crowley's forked tongue.

"Cooperation with our old enemies," Dagon said in explanation, looking mildly amused at Aziraphale's surprise.

"Well White Wings, you brought the stuff?" Hastur called over and Aziraphale noted a twitch of displeasure in Michael's usually impassive face.

"I did. I'll be back to collect it," Michael said, holding the pitcher out. Unsurprisingly, no one steps forward. Hastur even recoils slightly, Aziraphale noted.

"Er, no, I think that perhaps you ought to do the honours, it..." Hastur said quickly, sucking in a breath that speaks of fear. "I've...I've seen what that stuff can do..."Michael gave them a look and with a flourish begun to pour as the demons - and Aziraphale, watched. Given the size of the pitcher, it holds much more water than one would expect. The demons are clearly agitated, the crowd shuffling restlessly behind the glass.

"That's Holy Water," Aziraphale said once the last drop had fallen out of the pitcher, knowing the answer before Michael provided it.

"The Holiest, yes," the archangel nodded, standing impassively by the now filled bathtub.

"Sorry that we don't trust you Michael, but obviously we don't trust you. Hastur, test it." At this, Aziraphale starts but Hastur doesn't head to him, instead, he picks up a small demon standing by and Aziraphale watches in horror as it is dunked into the Holy Water. It evaporates almost instantly, screaming.

They'd kill their own, just like that? No trial, no nothing. Just 'wrong place, wrong time'? And worse...if...if it had been...

"Demon Crowley," Beelzebub started and Aziraphale swallows, staring, reminding himself that it wouldn't be Crowley that bathed in the tub this time...it would be him. It's so difficult not to imagine what would have happened to Crowley had they not switched... He could even hear Crowley's screams echo in his head. Pushing his heart down, he turned to face Beelzebub, still badly shaken. "I sentence you to extinction by Holy Water. Anything to say?" Aziraphale draws a deep breath.

"Well, yes," he manages, aware how it sounds. He has a great deal he'd want to say. But this is neither the time nor the place. Even if he's said yes, he doesn't actually know what he plans on saying.

_Be a polite arse._

"Um," he casts about, stalling. What would Crowley say, he thinks desperately. He'd be cocky. Bring up something that'd seem completely shallow and unimportant to protect himself. So that's what Aziraphale does. "This is a new jacket, and I'd hate to ruin it. D' you mind if I take it off?"

There was a slight pause where Beelzebub, Dagon and Hastur just stared at him and for a moment and Aziraphale is worried he might have overdone it. Then Beelzebub gave him a rather impressed look and waved her hand.

"As cocky as ever," she says, almost smiling. "By all means. Strip all you like. Hastur, cut him loose unless you want to do the honours," Beelzebub said and Hastur cast an indignant look at her before he came over to cut the ropes holding Aziraphale's wrists. Finally free, he flexed his hands slightly to get the feeling back, before he waltzed over to the bathtub where there is a chair.

Using the time to collect himself, Aziraphale stripped off his jacket, vest, trousers and the boots Crowley are so fond of, hanging them over the chair before he stands by the bathtub. The demons just watch him without talking, so he looked at the water, wondering what was going to happen once he stepped into it. He knew that he would not be harmed by it - why else would Crowley have suggested a swap? But he doesn't know how the demons will react. On the other hand, they have handed him a dangerous weapon right here. If he upturned the tub they would all die. It's too risky, though. He can't have all of Hell going after him...going after Crowley. So he only smiled at the thought and stepped into the bathtub, lowering himself down into the Holy Water accompanied by gasps from the demons around him.

Then, there is a complete shell shocked silence.

Aziraphale's heart soared with confidence. Not a single one of them seemed to understand what exactly was going on. He sank deeper into the water and put Crowley's too long legs over the sides of it, idly splashing the Holy Water.

"I don't suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of Hell there's such a thing as a rubber duck?" he looked up. "No?" The parody of a jury was still staring at him, unable to take in what they were seeing. Dagon was cowering close to Beelzebub as if afraid Aziraphale would attack them.

"He's gone native," he heard Beelzebub say in disbelief. "He isn't one of uzz anymore." Aziraphale basked in their confusion. Then, he noticed that if he flicked water onto the glass pane it sizzled and the audience recoiled. He had too much fun doing that. Eventually, he loses patience when no one says anything more. He decides to push Beelzebub, frighten him a bit.

"So, you're probably thinking: if he can do this, I wonder what else he can do. Very, very soon, you'll all going to get the chance to find out," Aziraphale said, sure that if he used angelic powers now, not a single demon here would realise he isn't Crowley. The thought is exhilarating.

"Oh he's bluffing," Hastur said and Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. He knows Heaven has no imagination but so shouldn't Hell. How would Hastur recognise a bluff? And would he really dare doing anything about it? He reminds himself that Hastur is really a Duke of Hell. "We can take him. One demon against the rest of Hell. Let's kill hi-"

"Shut it!" Beelzebub snapped unexpectedly and Aziraphale nearly laughed out loud. She was confused. And getting really angry about it. "Get him out of here," Beelzebub got up and stepped over, annoyed and clearly agitated at losing control of the situation. "He'll cause a riot. What're you all looking at? Nothing to see! Nothing to see here!" Aziraphale splashed water at the glass for good measure.

Of course, the nail in the coffin was a ding from the elevator, announcing Michael's return at - Aziraphale expected, the worst possible time according to Beelzebub.

"I came to bring back the...oh lord." Filled with glee and now quite sure Michael doesn't recognise him, Aziraphale takes this golden opportunity to frazzle Beelzebub even more.

"Michael, dude! Do a sweet miracle, will you? I need a bath towel." Michael did, too shocked to protest, and handed it to him eyes wide in confusion and more than a little bit of fear. She stepped away quickly after handing him the towel. Beelzebub looked dumbstruck much to Aziraphale's pleasure.

"I think," he said, sitting up in the tub to seize this moment. If this works, Crowley would be safe from both Heaven and Hell. It's worth a try now that both Beelzebub and Michael are frightened. "It would be better for everyone if I were to be left alone in the future, don't you?" He nodded his head, encouraging Beelzebub to do the same. The Arch Duke doesn't say anything but nodded, followed by Dagon and a grim looking Hastur. He then turned to Michael, who nods stiffly. "Right." He winked at them in what he hoped was a cheeky way. Crowley being so handsome it probably was.

No one disturbed him as he got up from the tub and dressed again, swinging the now moist towel over his shoulder. Michael gave him a wide breadth and Beelzebub just watched him in silence looking very serious. Then, Aziraphale jerked his head to one of the armoured guards still standing to the side.

"You. Be a dear and escort me out," he said, a sassy swing to his hips as he started down the corridor Michael came from. The armoured demon followed in silence and did as he's been told, but he kept some distance between himself and the deadly towel.

...

Once back up on Earth, Aziraphale headed straight for St James in hopes that this was where Crowley would return. As he walked, he quickly put away the towel somewhere safe while making sure there was no longer any Holy Water in Crowley's underwear. It felt safe enough to use some smaller miracles now that he'd managed to scare Hell away for the time being.

By the time he got to the park, adrenaline was making him giddy with the success in Hell and he could hardly wait to tell Crowley about it. Only...there was no sign of him. Aziraphale took a quick run around the place, but couldn't find him, and eventually returned to the gate closest to the exit of Heaven. He should be there soon. It had only been..he checked Crowley's watch...a couple of hours? He wasn't entirely sure. It felt more but time worked strangely in Hell. 

He paced around slightly as he waited, and when he finally saw an all too familiar figure come walking through the gate, it was all he could do to not just jump him and hug him. He was just so happy to see him alive, well and unharmed. Crowley looked tired and once he got closer, more agitated than he'd expected.

"Did something happen?" he asked, first thing. Oh. That was quick. Aziraphale grinned at him, feeling giddy with excitement and looking forward to telling him what he'd done.

"Oh I think I scared the Hell out of Beelzebub," he said gleefully almost giggling. Crowley's jaw dropped.

"They got you...?"he managed and Aziraphale waved it off.

"Just about when they got you," he said, starting for a nearby bench eager to tell Crowley about his adventure down in Hell. The demon followed him rather tentatvely. "They were about as imaginative as one may have expected. They tried to use Holy Water of course and well, needless to say, that didn't work." Crowley looked unexpectedly shaken at this as he slumped down beside him but nodded, frowning.

"Well, Heaven wasn't much better with their Hellfire. They got properly confused when it didn't work," he said, taking the edge off Aziraphale's glee with his seriousness. Maybe he was just eager to get back into his own body? Aziraphale's wasn't all that good for sitting like Crowley liked to. "Do you think they'll leave us alone now?" Crowley asked, looking at him.

"At a guess, they'll pretend it never happened," Aziraphale said, thinking that at least Heaven would deny things to obliteration. Crowley seemed distant at this, lost in thought. "Right," Aziraphale said, bringing his attention back. "Anyone looking?"

Crowley sighed but lifted his hands to his temples to feel for the presence of heavenly or demonic powers, but seemed to come up empty.

"Nobody," he said, relaxing slightly. "Right, swap back then?" he asked, holding out his hand. Aziraphale took it, pushing slightly with his powers to start the swap back. Like before, it was rather unpleasant. He shuddered and heard Crowley twitch in his seat.

"Tartan collar, really?" the demon asked with the same air he questioned just about anything that he considered old-fashioned. Affronted, Aziraphale couldn't help defending himself.

"Tartan's stylish!" he cried and saw Crowley let out an exasperated sigh but drop the matter. If he could, then certainly the angel could too. Aziraphale smiled at him. "So, Agnes Nutter's last prophecy was on the money," he said, bringing the matter back to his visit in Hell. "I asked for a rubber duck and made archangel Michael miracle me a towel!" he beamed, barely able to contain himself. Apparently Crowley finally did see the funny in it all and laughed, a heart warming sound after all that had happened.

"They'll leave us alone. For a bit," Crowley mused, pausing slightly. "If you ask me, both sides will use this as breathing space before the big one." Aziraphale started at this, frowning.

"I thought that was the big one!" he said, suddenly worried. This wasn't over? After all that, they still weren't safe?

"Nah for my money the really big one...is all of us against all of them." Aziraphale considered this. as much as he didn't like it, it made sense.

"What? Heaven and Hell against...humanity," he said slowly, the thought far from pleasant. Also, it'd mean he'd have to fight on the humans side this time and humans were...squishy and perishable.

"Right," Crowley said again, bringing him out of his thoughts. "Time to leave the garden." He leaned back against the armrest of the bench. "Let me...tempt you to a spot of lunch?" Aziraphale smiled happily. Finally a good plan! Celebration! They'd worry about the next war later. If ever. It was one hing he was happy to push into the future.

"Temptation accomplished!" he said happily, finally able to run a joke like that with no worries. It seemed to amuse Crowley too, because they laughed together as they got up. "Hm..."Aziraphale mused, happy to finally be able to use his powers freely back in his own body. "What about The Ritz? I believe a table for two has just miraculously become free."

And to Crowley's credit, he gave him a rather enthusiastic 'aah' and they set off toward the restaurant together.


End file.
